Writings of a strange arts student

Tag Archives: Ottawa

Today I’m in Ottawa, having taken a 6pm flight from Halifax, and I’ll be here for a few days before taking a train to Toronto.

Before my flight, though, I had to finish up packing, shower (By the way, if you’re going to be travelling, SHOWER BEFORE HAND. Sincerely, Someone Who May End Up Sitting Next To You In The Future), and I managed to finish that a little after 3.

I did Siobhan’s dishes since I had the time, and then looked up the best route to take to get to the Halifax Airport.

I put Siobhan’s street as the ‘from’ and got the address of Halifax’s Airport, clicked for the best route via busses since it would be cheaper, and…

Sorry, we don’t have transit schedule data for a trip from Siobhan’s Address, Halifax, NS to Bell Blvd, Enfield, NS B2T 1K2 at the time and date you specified.

This was nice, as it meant that I wouldn’t have to make the treacherous journey myself to Toronto.

There was a great deal of walking (not as much as one would think though), we went to the Museum of Civilization (GO THERE! Especially if you have kids. Not specifically kid-oriented, but a lot of things for them to touch, look at, all that stuff), ordered too much food on more than one occasion, and, among other things, they helped me start packing up.

Some may be reading this, checking the date, wondering why I am packing up now rather than later, closer to when the actual school term ends, and I’m going to have to say it’s because there’ll be less crap to pack up at the end of the year this way.

Three bins of stuff, a couple of boxes, a shelving unit that they brought down part way through the school year, and some other things, and my room is much sparser, but likely will be much easier to pack up in May.

See? I’m not just crazy here.

The packing was done on Sunday, with much cleaning and failed organization on my part (and cleaning on the family’s part, I admit), and at one point, nearing the end of the moving-stuff-to-car phase, Mom and I were in my room, and Lexy was in the kitchen…

I heard the Yeti, my only female roommate come in and say “Hi!” to Lexy.

In my mind, this was a normal thing. The Yeti is being friendly. Ok.

I walked out of my room and into the kitchen, and said Hi myself.

“WHOA!”

The Yeti had apparently thought that my sister was me. I at first thought that her startled yell was over the bins in the kitchen… but no. It was the startlement of saying Hi to someone, getting a response, and then having the person you thought you just said Hi to come into the room. And say Hi back again.

I still giggle over it… I think I take too much pleasure in people mistaking me for Lexy and Lexy for me, and us for twins…

we really aren’t.

There is more than a one year gap between Lexy’s and my own age. More than 3, in fact.

So it’s funny that I look that old, and Lexy looks that young, and we look that much like each other despite such a gap…

And we sound pretty much the same as well.

I mentioned that I probably take too much pleasure in us being mistaken for each other?

That extends to the phone.

So it is totally understandable that the Yeti thought my sister was me, and despite me having some colour in my hair, and Lexy’s hair being shorter than my own…

To show, here are two pictures of My sister and I side by side

Lexy: Left & Me: Right

This is over last summer, taken at Grundy Park (where I worked).

Me: Left & Lexy: Right

This is a slightly more recent picture, before I got colour in my hair.

So, I’ve been having some troubles with my studies lately, and as much as I was thinking about talking with my family about it, I decided that it’s my life and I should spend it the way I want to.

This was actually inspired by one of my friends, who has decided that she wanted to do some travelling after school, since she had to stay and take an extra semester at high school for various reasons, and wants to get ‘out there’ before going to university.

I think I’m going to go with her.

She as some interesting plans, and is already looking to get a hippie van (you know the ones, the kind we all remember from Scooby-Doo?) and Since it isn’t really safe to go travelling on your own, I figure that she’ll welcome the company.

Also, probably, the money.

If she’s fine with waiting to go anywhere out of Canada until after my summer job, I will have a good amount to go for a year or so, and as I said above, I’m having some troubles in classes so this is a great idea!

It really is. It’ll be a break from classes, I’ll get so many new experiences, I’ll be ale to keep in touch, and I’ll be with a friend.

I know my parents might think it’s a bit of a bad idea, but I’m of legal age for a great deal of things (not alcohol in America, no), and that includes the right to make decisions about my life.

It’s not like there’s much out there to worry about, anyway, especially since I’ll be with my friend! I already did some travelling (for school, a trip to London and Paris), and I already had the talks about what not to do, and how to keep from getting hooked into tourist traps, and all that, so everything will be great.

Really. It will be so awesome!

It’s great that the family is coming up to Ottawa for the Easter weekend (next weekend), and I’m planning on telling them what’s going to be happening next year then. It helps that I’ll be talking to the registrar before they get here, so my plans will be well on their way! My friend has been sending me links to Volkswagon vans being sold, and I’ve already agreed to pay for half of it.

I’m sure my sister Lexy will be surprised when she reads this, but I understand that she will understand that I’m posting this on my blog with the confidence that she will see that this is a good idea, and that she will support my decision.

Since I’m posting this today, I would also like to say a BIG Happy Birthday to two of my favourite Harry Potter Characters, Fred and George Weasley, who were born today (April 1st). In my mind neither of you will ever die.

Yet another post about my craptastic roommates, and I know that some of you are going to be like “Pfft, whatever, it’s just juice” but I get more than a little pissed off when my stuff is opened and eaten without my knowing!

Yes this is about Juice. It wasn’t a typo in the title.

My parents came down to Ottawa to visit last weekend, as it’s March Break for most people in (not university) schooling, and they were nice enough to take me shopping at the local Metro (grocery store).

They bought me bread, they bought me ham and a variety of cheese, crackers, they also were smart enough to get me some heavy things, things that are more awkward to carry home.

Such as Milk and Juice.

Juice is something I love.

Other people are like “hey, I’ll have some milk and cookies.”

I am like “Hey, sure I’ll have some cookie–OHMYGOD! Is that JUICE?”

Juice lasts longer than milk, it comes in more flavours than milk, it comes in little boxes that DON’T have to be refrigerated, it is a part of my childhood that I have dragged, kicking and screaming, into adulthood.

While my friends were wasting money buying pop, I brought a number of juice boxes to school.

Because one juice box isn’t enough. Nope.

And my friends came to appreciate this, as I keep more than just two, on the not so off-chance I’ll be hanging out after school for longer than anticipated.

It wasn’t as odd as it sounds that they could ask, with some certainty that I would be able to deliver, if I had a juice box for them.

So my roommates OPENING (as in, it was sealed) and DRINKING (as in, I wasn’t the first to drink) about half of the 1.89L of MY JUICE (blood orange, if you’re wondering), just know that I am outraged.

Just about as outraged when I found that they had eaten all of my cheese.

I’m not sure what I’m more angry about, but I am pissed >: (

And, if they eat all my cheese again on TOP of this, I am going to kill them.

Maybe after spiking all their food with laxatives.

Assholes…

I am just about ready to go to war with them at this point in time, and I will not be held responsible for damage to their food.

Doom shall come to those who come between me and my food…

They haven’t yet made moves against my meat (wow, that sounds vaguely sexual :S), and I am only going to say that they don’t because they don’t know if I’ll be using it for a meal or how long it has been in the fridge.

They certainly don’t pay attention to their own food… I had to, a couple of months ago, throw out a large Tupperware of sausages.

They were already white and fizzy, and were growing blue.

If they do ever eat my meat products (or more cheese, or more juice), then I am going to have a full on hissy fit.

A temper tantrum of epic proportions.

It will not be limited to expressing my anger through blog-form.

Oh, and if they ever tried stealing one of my jars of home-made salsa…

On a more cheerful (and less murderous) note, Mom and Dad seemed to have fun, staying Sat-Tues, and when I had to leave the to their own devices for a bit on Monday while I reviewed/studied, They went on a tour to the Parliament Buildings. I also ended up taking three showers in two days, as I took advantage of the saltwater pool at the Minto Suites my parents stayed at. I also ate spring rolls with plum sauce (that had wasabi mixed into it) that made me want to cry, as I’ve been eating more cafeteria food in an attempt to use up my meal plan.

To the family who reads this, I love you! To everyone else, I love you too! Just not as much as I love my family 😉

Bonus: Delicious foods and instructions to make delicious food, good for runners and “green smoothies” HERE

My Dad sends out an e-mail to the family and also to some friends every week. Often on fridays, sometimes on other days of the week, but they are all funny.

He sends out 5 or 6 pictures. They could be Rage comics, unfortunate pictures that you can’t help but laugh at, cartoons parodies, costumes people have used on their pets… They are always hilarious, and the message that goes with them are usually messages to the family about what’s for dinner, that he’ll be going to the grocery store, and since I’ve been in Ottawa rather than back home in Toronto, I’ve been killed by mentions of the delicious home made food that I’ll NOT be having.

One consistent message is always this though, and I hope today’s Video Vendredi helps this along.

“Cheer up!”

I know it’s long, but hilarious, and as a bonus to make sure you cheer up, here’s one from 2008.

Slightly more serious post than my other ones, but this one is something I think a good number of students (at least university/college students) may find important.

I am going to get this out of the way and say I don’t do stress well.

Or rather, I stress well, I don’t DEAL with stress well. Here’s how I think of my stress dealings:

I bottle it up, store it away since its so unpleasant to deal with. Later, when I once again get stressed, I bottle that up too, even as the aftershocks of the feeling shake up the last bottle of stress.

Unlike real life, the tremors of stress stay with me, though I ignore it, and so it slowly shakes the second, and eventually third, fourth, fifth bottles up as well, building up pressure that I also ignore (as I am so very good at it) until the bottles I use start having trouble containing it.

I feel like, at least right now, the bottles I use are plastic. Later, if I keep doing this, the bottles may be made of glass. I don’t know.

When, eventually, the bottles fizz and explode so that I have stress colouring everything, making everything sticky and gross and makes me feel like doing nothing else but clean up and throw away the stress, I do so. It is, after all, hard to focus on anything else when you have sticky, gross stress all over you.

I ignore everything else, I have trouble concentrating, I have this overwhelming urge to do nothing, to go do something else that will make me feel better, like maybe watch comedy skits, or watch shows I know I like and episodes I know are funny, or read something totally random, or something else entirely.

I’ve been working on this example and been trying to self-analyze in a realistic, objective way, and I know that I need to work on a better way of dealing with stress than bottling it up and storing it away.

The reason I say I believe my bottles to be plastic right now, is because when the bottles explode from stress overload, broken plastic doesn’t hurt or cut nearly as deeply as glass.

Wow, that sounded a bit dark, huh?

I’m just trying to say that this tendency of mine to put away stress could develop into a worse problem, or could cause me to ignore something important because it happens to be stressful.

To help counteract that, I’m doing a number of things.

I don’t quite bend over backwards to do it, but close enough

I’m trying to schedule myself better (made a schedule for the week, having classes, study times, break times, etc…). Hopefully by having something steady and schedule like in my life, I’ll have something to hold ono.

Yoga, once a week. Similar to the schedule, by having yoga, it’s consistent and, unlike the schedule, something physical. If I need to do something more exerting, I can get onto one of the exercise machines and go on for an hour.

Phone conversation with Mom at least once a week. I am used to having a support system on hand. I don’t like talking about stress to friends, because I don’t like making my friends

My family has more personality than this and my three roommates combined

feel uncomfortable. It isn’t like I’m going to be able to talk to my roommates after all. I hardly ever see them, and even if I did, I don’t particularly like them. As such, my support system is my family. I need to be able to talk with them. So I’m making sure that at least once a week, there will be a conversation. To just talk. About nothing in particular. About things happening at home, things happening in Ottawa, allowing Mom to complain about her school while I can talk about how wonderful it is to be skating. I think it’s helping. No guarantee though. Midterms are stressful.

Writing. I know it isn’t the best thing, but writing here, on a blog, is almost surprisingly stress-releasing. Even if I don’t talk about stress. To be able to put my thoughts out to an invisible crowd, it’s nice. I also still write fiction for my own, and fanfiction because I enjoy getting reviews. It helps that most reviews are positive and are very encouraging and you can’t feel useless when you get an enthusiastic review for one of your ideas. Hell, I have a number of people who review regularly for my story ‘It’s Green‘ (Harry Potter Fanfiction and yes I linked to my own story) and I can go on for endless replies in conversation with these people who I only know because they like something I’ve written enough to contact me. How awesome is that?

By the way, Mom doesn’t like that I write fanfiction, but it’s a stress reliever for me. I enjoy writing. I didn’t do NaNoWriMo this year because I promised I wouldn’t, but writing is one of my hobbies. I’m not giving it up. I’m glad my Mom understands that. Or at least I believe she does.

Aaah, stress, you give me such issues!

Boy do I need to work on this, and I believe that this IS helping, but i’s hard to be objective in things such as these. I’ve been thinking on this for so long that I could be imagining everything, and I’m sure that some invisible person out there reading this is thinking I am imagining everything, or explaining it unrealistically, or SOMETHING, but this is as close to the ‘truth’ of the matter as I can get to.

It’s very hard being objective when dealing with yourself.

I think that’s one reason why self-portraits are so hard to do. You try to make it better because you’re vain (don’t try to deny it) and want to look pretty.

Or cool, if you aren’t quite ready to admit that you think you’re pretty.

But, as I said before, I don’t do (dealing with) stress well.

But, because I’ve been able to recognize it well enough… I am also going to recognize that I need a break.

Not a full one, more like slowing down to a jog from a sprint, but a break none the less.

Next semester, my hesitant plan is to take a break from school, move back to Toronto, and (with the permission of uOttawa) take a course while in Toronto so that I’m not totally removed from doing class work.

It will be one semester, and a break from full-time class. This will be me working to get used to stress of university, while having my support system with me.

I don’t know if I would have done better having taken the first year off, but this is what I’m doing now.

I wish I had my own time machine, to go back to the beginning of the school year, maybe then I could have done a better job, but since I don’t, I’m giving myself a chance to breathe.

I think he’s stupid as hell, but at the same time, I’m not going to give out his number… but where the hell has an area code of (250)???

AND… I was looking at the call log of my phone… looks like he tried calling about 5 days ago.

How many times can you call the same wrong number?

And why do you have to do it so early?

This morning he called me TWICE.

At TOTALLY different times.

ONCE at 2am…

ANOTHER time at 4am.

WHAT THE HELL?

I am absolutely baffled.

I just looked up where area code (250) is…

British Columbia.

British frigging Columbia

This makes no sense to me.

WHO is he trying to call? He called five days ago once, yesterday twice, this morning twice…

And I have a Toronto area code.

Is he trying to call someone in Toronto?

And not realizing at all that he’s missing by about 5-6 hours away?

Since I’m in frigging Ottawa?

Toronto OR Ottawa, frigging long way away

This is just BAFFLING to me. Even if I knew specifically what city in BC he was in, the difference is still huge! And he called five times.

How can you cal the same wrong number so many times?

And at totally ridiculous times???

I don’t understand this…

My frustrations at being woken up at such ridiculous times knows no bounds, and my anger early this morning at my phone going off was immense and soul crushing.

WHY ARE YOU CALLING ME AT 2 AM??? 4AM? SERIOUSLY?

This anger was translated from my frustrations last night, resolved as I finally went to bed, and dug up again as Placebo’s ‘Pure Morning’ (funny, now that I think on it) rang out and warring states of my mind groggily woke up.

One part says I should just hang up.

The other says no… pick it up.

It might be important.

For those who have read my other posts, you may guess I’ll be referring to Insanity and Sanity.

Well I have to mention now that IF I had listened to Sanity, I wouldn’t have answered the phone.

I wouldn’t have had that moment of “Oh shit, it’s the guy from yesterday” calm before the storm thought, before he said the EXACT SAME THING he said before. But at that early a time, any angry rants had to muddle through the thick screen of shouldn’t-I-be-asleep-right-now? fog. People have joked about fog before, talking about how it was so thick you could cut it with a knife. I remember a Scooby-doo episode where he cut out a fog cookie from the air and ate it.

This fog, at that time, was too thick for that. You would need an axe to even dent this fog. And the conversation was done too quickly for such actions to be taken my inner rant maker, my inner angry child.

“…Hello?”

“Oh, um, I think I have the wrong number”

“… Yes, you do. Don’t do it again.”

“Oh, uh–“

*click*

And so I hung up and spent a good couple of minutes being angry at myself for not yelling at him. Then the fog of tiredness came up and knocked me out with it’s solidness.

Two hours later, Pure Morning started twanging and then drumming me to wakefulness, and this time I listened to Sanity’s first bit of advice, and hung up immediately.

I now recognize the assholes number.

Of course, this being the second call that early in the morning, Sanity was now agreeing with Insanity, ignoring the niceties that you should observe when on the phone, and was urging me to pick up the phone and ask why, exactly, he was calling ANYONE at that time of the day, and then swear at him until HE was the one to hang up.

The next time he calls, IF he calls (hope he doesn’t for the most part), I hope I’m aware enough to ask who the hell he keeps trying to call.